But when we met, instead of passing, she turned and walked alongside of me for a few yards, still keeping her face downwards, and busied with her flowers.
She spoke rapidly, however, all the time, in a low tone, as if talking to herself, but evidently addressing the purport of her words to me.
She seemed afraid of being observed by some lurking foe.

"Trust the Oak," said she; "trust the Oak, and the Elm, and the great Beech.

Take care of the Birch, for though she is honest, she is too young not to be changeable.

But shun the Ash and the Alder; for the Ash is an ogre,--you will know him by his thick fingers; and the Alder will smother you with her web of hair, if you let her near you at night." All this was uttered without pause or alteration of tone.

Then she turned suddenly and left me, walking still with the same unchanging gait.